The Leftovers
by crazyidea-inc
Summary: Alex tries to come to terms with being dead with a grumpy werewolf and a detox-ing vampire. Includes, but is not limited to: bad ghost puns, equally dispiriting tea - that's another pun for free - and a rating of T, for some language.


thought i'd give poor downton a break and peek in on tom and hal and alex. i think i'm going to like them quite a bit, don't you?

XXX

The entire place was going to take some getting used to. The Hawaiian mural, for one thing - what an eyesore. The bar, for another. The whole not drinking/eating thing was starting to get on her nerves, and the presence of readily available alcohol only served to heighten her irritation.

It was so damnably easy to forget she was dead. If she tried hard enough, it was almost like insomnia, like a dream. No change of clothing? She didn't really feel like sprucing up, anyway. Rent-a-ghosting? As simple as closing your eyes. But then she would glance in the mirror only to realize that even she could barely make out a hint of a shadow; something that might have been her out of the corner of her eye, but once faced was nothing.

And then she really resented the alcohol.

So she made herself busy. If she cleaned, she wasn't bored, and if she wasn't bored, then she wasn't ruminating on being not alive. She'd always hated cleaning; it amused her that what she'd abhorred in life was what kept her sanity intact in death.

"D'ye want some tea? I've just made a fresh pot - 'course me dad always says I'm rubbish with the homey stuff, but caffeine's caffeine," Alex chirruped, offering a steaming mug to Tom. He froze, hand suspended in the action of taking the cup. He snatched it back as if stung, glaring at her, something feral and cagey in the sharp lines of his face that took her by surprise - she kept forgetting this kid was a werewolf.

"Annie makes tea," he said stubbornly, eyes narrowed. Inwardly, she winced. She'd managed a day and a half without offending him and had hoped her luck would last. In the week after Annie's - what would you call it? Not death, that was redundant; she'd been dead for awhile. Passing over? - after Annie's _passing over_, he'd grown more and more territorial, making sure Alex knew where her place was, which was somewhere between "temporary nuisance" and "we will solve your problem when we get to it."

It was odd; he'd been so eager to welcome her at first, and he and that quirky date of his had all but locked her and Hal in a broom closet in their efforts to pair them off. But that was it, wasn't it? He'd done it for Hal. "My best mate," he'd said. A bit mushy for Alex's taste, but heartfelt nonetheless. Now, with Hal not being quite _here_…well, he wasn't there to provide a safety buffer, a motivation for lack of a better word. She and Tom were connected only through Hal. And now Hal wasn't so much Hal as…well…

The cup was starting to cool in her hands.

"Made," Tom said abruptly, blank. She jumped, startled out of her reverie. "Annie _made _tea." For a moment he stared at her, animosity slipping away to reveal something lost and gangly; it reminded her painfully of her youngest brother. _This _kid _is a werewolf_, Alex thought.

"Sorry, forgot," she said out loud. "Maybe some coffee, then? Or you could take a break, get some rest. I can handle McCreepy for a bit if you like." Tom regarded her warily, resolve wavering.

"You rile 'im up," he replied, a non-answer. She grinned.

"Yeah, well, it's not like he can do anything to me, right?" she supposed cheerily. "Me being dead and all." Tom sighed; exhaustion had won out. Score one for the ghost.

"Don' let me sleep for more than'n hour," he muttered, shuffling off. She watched him go, then turned determinedly to the door. Squeezing her eyes shut, she rent-a-ghosted into the room, lukewarm tea in hand.

"Don't you ever knock?" Hal snarled. She'd caught him on one of his downward slopes. Something within her drooped.

"You drink my blood, you lose knocking privileges. It's called negative reinforcement ," Alex replied smartly, sitting herself very deliberately in front of him. Hal laughed, a grating, derisive sound.

"Oh, please," he said, leaning back in his chair as if it were a throne. "Are you still whining about that? Really, Alex - do you think your life was worth all that much? You were just one piece of filth in the trash heap of humanity. Nothing to fuss over." Spit flecked at her impassive face. "Your father and brothers are the same - waste. Mark my words, you little whore: if you don't release me at once, my face will be the last thing they ever see in their miserable, puling lives."

He went on in contemptuous, haughty tones, describing in gruesome detail all he planned to do to her family, from the gory to the sadistic. Alex tuned him out, tapping a fingernail on the mug pensively. He looked, quite frankly, like shit: his hair was matted with sweat, his skin a yellowish pallor, his secured hands constantly moving like jittery spiders. Worst of all, though, were his eyes. Dark circles pressed into the skin surrounding them, purple bruises that made them seem brighter than usual, feverish, deranged. They weren't all black, but they weren't all Hal either. "Shadowed" fit them best. Caught between dark and light.

"That's lovely, dear," she responded coolly. She liked to let him know how aggressively not affected she was by his little digs; it seemed to irritate him. "But enough about my family, though it's nice to know you care, " she continued, setting the cup aside. "How are you?" Hal made a sudden, violent movement, thudding the chair legs against the floor.

"_How do you think I am, you stupid bitch_?" he roared, face unrecognizable in its fury. He twisted his neck with a groan, teeth gritted. She watched a line of sweat trace a trail down his cheek, to the hollow of his neck. His eyes were shut tight, his mouth a grimace of pain. For a moment he was deadly still, veins popping and muscles taut. His hands, frenetic before, now clutched at the arms of the chair until she thought he might break them. Gradually, though, they relaxed, leaving behind only the barest of tremors.

"I'm sorry," he panted in a quieter voice, and something in her chest loosened ever so slightly; she'd liked him, had gone on a date with him. Surreal to say the least. "I'm so sorry. You shouldn't - I don't want you to see me like this."

"Hal returns," she said jokingly, but to her annoyance and shame, she felt her nose tingling, a telltale sign of impending tears. "So has McCreepy retreated for the evening?" Hal let out a huff of air, head bowed. She couldn't tell if it was a laugh or not. A very small part of her hoped it was.

"You've nicknamed my - "

"Your evil alter ego, yes. I considered Count Chocula for awhile, but Tom said he didn't want to have to think about you frothing at the mouth while eating breakfast. So McCreepy it is."

"You have a very odd sense of humor," Hal mumbled, eyes still closed. When he opened them, the tingling in her nose magnified until she had to lock her jaw to keep it from quivering. He wasn't laughing. He was crying.

"Yeah, well," she blurted, swallowing hard. "It's nice to know dying hasn't made me a total deadbeat. Note the pun." Her wide smile was forced; it chafed, it hurt, but it hurt more when he didn't respond, merely lowered his head further. "C'mon now," she chirped desperately. "D'ye want some of your dominoes? If you promise to be good, I'll pop upstairs and get them."

How bright her voice sounded - fluorescent, almost. She was terrible at this, at this chipper optimism, the plastered on cheeriness that came so easily to others. It was a funny thing, being dead. She'd always pictured white robes, halos, maybe even some of those dodgy harp things. Now her schema had been forced to expand to include struggling not to cry in front of a vampire going through blood withdrawal. A vampire who'd fell off the wagon for _her _blood, albeit unknowingly. A vampire who she'd fancied a bit. Not exactly what she'd been taught to expect in Sunday school.

"Do you know what I want?" Hal asked, head still bent. Alex jumped. One thing death had done to her was made her a bit of an introspect. Introspecter. Ha.

"What?"

He lifted his head to her. His gentleness was gone, his fragility and shyness smothered by the black hatred in his gaze that still shocked her in its capability to knock her back a few steps.

"I want to sink my fangs into the flesh of your throat."

Hal was gone. Again.

"I want to feel your skin give way. I want to feel my teeth pierce your veins, and your hot, wet blood flood my mouth, and your life gush away in a torrent of - "

"That's it," Alex interrupted, mug in hand. "No dominoes for you. Negative reinforcement and all that." She rent-a-ghosted out hurriedly, just outside his door. She could hear the ropes straining, his vehemently whispered curses and diatribes. His little outbursts seemed to be peaking - at least, that's what Tom said, and she figured he'd been playing the supernatural game long enough to know.

The mug shattered on the floor, and she jumped again, indulging in her own string of obscenities. Now she was dropping things. Fantastic.

"Oh, nicely done," she muttered, wiping at her eyes as she fumbled for the shards. "Very stupid, my girl."

She sat on the floor, suddenly very tired. It had never occurred to her that ghosts could be worn out; it seemed distinctly unfair that not only did she get to be murdered at the ripe old age of twenty-six, but she didn't even get any superhero perks to go with it.

Except rent-a-ghosting. Rent-a-ghosting was nice.

"Sitting on the floor won't do no good," she told herself firmly. "Neither will talking to yourself, you daftie."

"You all righ'?"

For the third time in ten minutes, Alex jumped and swore.

"Bloody hell, Tom, you're gonna give me a heart attack," she complained, starting to get up. Tom opened his mouth, then shut it. "Oh, right," she snapped, gesturing jerkily with her free hand. "I forgot. I'm _dead_. So I guess a heart attack's kind of redundant." She slid back down the wall, half-heartedly tossing the remains of the mug to the side.

"I didn't mean it that way," Tom said, almost placating, but Alex scoffed, suppressing more, less ladylike compulsions.

"Don't matter," she growled darkly. "It is what it is, innit? I'm dead, you're a werewolf, Hal's a bloody lunatic - pun _fully intended_, mind you - and the world is a very different place than I imagined. Well. Well, well." She sniffed, furious and blurry-eyed.

"'S not so bad as tha'," Tom ventured after a moment. She glared up at him, but his eyes were, as always, placid if a little sad.

"Actually, it is," she retorted. He sat by her. From the inside of Hal's makeshift prison, only silence could be heard.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say," Tom said honestly. The angry retort fizzing in her throat sputtered and died. "Dad would know, maybe, and Annie definitely would. But I'm no good wi' words, and I'm sorry for tha', but I do know it's gonna get better. Don' ask me 'ow," he added as Alex opened her mouth. "But it will."

"I don't know how to believe you," Alex replied through the lump in her throat. Tom looked at her, arms hooked around his knees.

"Well, Baby Eve's gone," he muttered. "And my dad. And Annie. And George and Nina. And Allison. They've all left, one way or another. But you're here."

Alex looked up at him, startled. He shifted, carefully studying a knot in the floor next to him.

"Maybe it's me bein' silly, maybe it's nowt, but even with all of them gone, I don't feel so alone, not with you and Hal, even though he's…" He dwindled off. Alex stared at him.

"All this time, I thought you didn't want me here," she said, a little ashamed. Tom sniffed.

"Yeah, well, I don', truth be told," he informed her bluntly. "You're right irritatin', and you make terrible tea. But you stayed, y'know? And maybe I don' wantyou here, but I _want_ you here. Or something. I dunno." He stood, nervous as a colt. "I'll go check in on 'im, shall I?"

"You're not a bad sort, Tom," Alex commented as his hand touched the doorknob.

"Yeah, you neither," he replied, opening the door.

"Though you do make appalling tea," came Hal's voice from inside. Alex gaped, twisting around on the floor to peer through the doorway.

"Eavesdropping!" she cried indignantly, propped up on her elbow. "That's no dominoes for _two _days, you little weasel! I'm a big believer in negative reinforcement, and you, my friend, are about to get a heap of it!" Hal made a face at her while Tom tested his straps.

"_I _eavesdropped," he grumbled. "Not…McCreepy. And I wasn't eavesdropping. _You_ were being loud."

"Eavesdroppin'," Tom muttered, and Alex's lips twitched.

"Well, since Hal is in for the mo, I'll pop down and get us something to eat. _Carpe diem_, or whatever," she announced, picking herself up off the floor.

"No tea!" the boys shouted at the same time, and to her surprise, Alex felt herself grin.

_It's not home_, she thought. _But it's a start._


End file.
